


Creative Block

by sardonic_at_heart



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, composer woes, creative block, mystic messenger cafe au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:20:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonic_at_heart/pseuds/sardonic_at_heart
Summary: Zen is trying to write a new hit song, but so far has nothing to show for it.





	Creative Block

**Author's Note:**

> See my tumblr (sardonic-at-heart) for the original post about my Cafe AU!

Zen had been sitting in front of the piano for an hour now and so far he didn’t have much to show for his efforts. Just a sheet music filled with more chicken scratch than actual notes written in pencil. If one could even see through this chaotic mess, they would notice that he only had three measures of melody. Everything after that didn’t sound perfect enough to keep.

It was on his mind since last night, so he rushed his way to the cafe two hours early. Of course he felt bad when he had to wake Jihyun up just so that he could unlock the doors, but he really needed another musical instrument other than his guitar to smooth out the metaphorical wrinkles of this next song.

He was almost at wit’s end by now as he wrote down a minor chord—no, scratch that. A major chord seemed more suitable to whatever he was trying to compose. More ferocious scratching that nearly poked a hole through the paper during the process. Sighing, he leaned over the bench to grab his cigarette rested in the ashtray at his feet. He took in a long drag with narrowed eyes and exhaled as he assessed the offensive piece in front of him.

“Now, now,” a hand swiped away the cigarette from his grasp. “What’s the rules about smoking again?”

He knew right away who it was by the playful tone in their voice and chuckled. “Cigarettes outside, lollipops inside.”

Like an angel from heaven, MC smiled at him as she snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray. The last time he checked the schedule, she and Zen had the same shifts this week and the next. Her timing couldn’t have been any more perfect because he really needed a distraction from all the thoughts plaguing his busy mind. Pushing the tray aside, the brunette reached into her pocket and pulled out a lollipop, the wrapper was transparent to show the color of the candy.

“Strawberry for the talented and lovely Zen.”

“Thanks, babe.” He winked, which she disregarded with a roll of her eyes.

“What’re you up to?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Ah, well,” he gave several vague gestures with the wave of his hand, “trying to write another hit, but nothing’s turning out good so far.”

She leaned in for a closer look, her perfume trading places with the stench of smoke and invaded his senses to the point he imagined … interesting things. No! Focus! There was a time and place to fantasize, but he was in composer mode. Music was always first priority, and anything else came after that. For now, he tore open the wrapper and shoved the lollipop in his mouth. It could be an effective way to silence the urge to do something ungentlemanly.

He watched her eyes scan through his progress … and then noticed they faltered a little in confusion. It only intensified the disappointment he had for himself tenfold. MC made a grimace, reconsidered her expression, and then attempted a supportive smile.

“I mean, masterpieces aren’t made in a day. Editing’s a thing.”

He knew that, of course. But the feeling of defeat still stung him all the same, the bitter taste of it in his mouth was something the sweet strawberry flavor couldn’t even cure. Zen gave a noncommittal shrug and moved the candy to the side of his mouth to talk easier.

“Composing new songs was always easy for me, but today doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the same.”

“So, you have a creative block,” It was a statement, not a question. “Happens to the best of us.”

Disgruntled mumbling was his only reply. That might have been true, but it never happened to him: Zen, the aspiring and handsome artist who did everything with perfect execution.

“I’m just not getting anywhere productive no matter how many times I’m doing this,” he reasoned.

“That’s what a creative block is.”

God, he really was uncool right now. He always presented himself as a man who was always smiling, chivalrous toward women, and maybe a little flirty even toward her, but either way, it was the side of him that was nothing but positive energy (excluding the times where he had to talk to Jumin, but that was a different story).

Exposing his frustrated side was something he never imagined to show, but she was here to witness it. And he felt vulnerable. Worried that her opinion of him would change because of this situation, and it made him uncomfortable to look in her eyes. He concentrated on the piano keys, ruining his elegant posture with a slump of his shoulders.

“Hey,” MC’s voice lowered in concern. “It’s okay, Zen. We’re all human, you know? We fall into these moments in our lives, but there’s always a way to get out of it.”

Her hand touched his shoulder, gentle and warm as she gave him a supportive squeeze.

His crimson eyes met hers and attempted a smile to lighten the atmosphere. “Maybe we could kiss—?”

“No.” The same hand that comforted him a second ago now pushed him away from her, the brunette’s voice deadpanned at his suggestion. Feigning rejection, the white haired man cradled his nonexistent wound close to him.

“So quick to turn me down! Have you no sympathy? I’m hurt, MC.” He shifted his hand to his chest, holding his heart in an over-dramatic pose.

“Get used to it, you flirt.”

Their laughter filled the empty cafe for a couple of moments before trailing off into a comfortable silence. The lollipop had dissolved in his mouth for what felt like ages ago, and he carelessly dumped the plastic stick into his ashtray. He took a mental note to throw it away later.

“Maybe I could help.”

Zen turned to MC, eyebrows raised in surprise. “With…?”

“Composing your next song.”

He blinked. Oh. Was it wrong of him to think that they were still talking about kissing?

“If you have any other ideas than sitting and waiting for the next notes to just come to me, then I’m all ears.”

“Hmm…” she stepped forward and he didn’t hesitate to make some room for her as she sat on the bench with him.

“I’ve never had the opportunity to write my own songs, so I wouldn’t know the exact thinking process.”

“Well, a different perspective might do the trick at this point.”

She hummed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at the sheet music. He had seen this look many times. Her expression focused on what was in front of her, taking excellent care in getting the correct order to the right customer.

“Okay,” she finally said with a definitive nod. “Starting from the basics is always a first step.”

“Right.”

The brunette turned to him. “You have artists you look up to, right? What kind of songs do you listen to when you need reference?”

That was easy. “Sam Smith.”

“... Really?”

“Hey. What’s with that surprised look, huh?”

“Nothing,” she quickly defended. “I expected you to say a Korean pop star or something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Or something?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Didn’t think you’d mention an English artist, is all.”

Well, he understood that. All of his songs are in his native language, of course, and he was sure she had never heard him speak another language, if he couldn’t already tell from her surprise.

“You know that I didn’t finish high school, right?”

MC nodded.

“I was never good at school, and I was terrible at English. But when I listen to his songs, that’s how I’m able to learn a few words. And they said music doesn’t amount to anything.”

He chuckled almost to himself derisively, and from the corner of his eye he could see her staring at him. Most likely trying to figure out who exactly “they” were while analyzing the meaning in his far away gaze.

“Anyway,” he snapped back into the present, “I often play his songs when I have time to myself.”

“But most of his songs are about unrequited love.”

Zen hummed in agreement. “They hold the kind of emotions I’ve never had. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the music.

“I like to listen to his songs because of the way every song is slow and intimate. His voice is low, almost as if he’s targeting all of his lyrics to a specific person. I want to be able to sing like that. With the same kind of intimacy he sings in every line in his songs.” His long fingers traced the edges of the keys absentmindedly.

There was a pause. “You know he’s gay, right?”

He chuckled at her response. “Of course I do. But that shouldn’t turn me away from his songs. Music and love is universal, and when they come hand-in-hand it shouldn’t be categorized depending on what race or sexual orientation you are. If it’s pure and genuine, then that’s all that matters.”

Silence.

For a second he wondered if she fell asleep from his long speech, but when he turned to look at her, his eyes met hers. An awestruck expression embedded her features, eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Instead of directly asking, he decided to tease her.

“What’s this? Those gleaming eyes and beautiful face mixed with confusion. Are you finally falling in love with me?”

He leaned closer for a kiss, but she was quick to push him away once more. “In your dreams, Zen.”

“Exactly. You invade my dreams more times than I could count. MC, you need to take responsibility for disturbing me every time I close my eyes to sleep.”

She stood up and walked off the stage, chuckling and shaking her head at his harmless advances. “Not buying it at all.”

He feigned a pout. “Fine.”

“Fine,” she sat at one of the tables. “Now that you have an artist in mind, you should play one of his songs. Maybe playing one could jumpstart your creative juices.”

“You sure you’re not trying to sneak in a free performance from me?”

“I would never,” an altruistic smile curled her lips, leaning back in her chair as she motioned to continue with a twirl of her finger. “Play.”

“Okay, okay.”

Zen redirected his attention back the piano, posture relaxed and fingers hovered over the keys. He thought of which song to play and when he did, his hands repositioned themselves, left hand holding two notes while his right hand held three. It was eight measures of an introduction, the eighth notes he played on his right hand was what kept the tempo at a constant pace. There was no cello to carry the melody, but hopefully the piano and his voice was all he needed.

 

_ You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down _

_ You, you enchant me even when you’re not around _

_ If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down _

_ I’m latching on, babe, now I know what I have found _

 

He could feel the intensity of her gaze. The same level of intensity he often received when he was performing for a full house, but he closed his eyes to surround himself in the music.

 

_ I feel we’re close enough _

_ Could I lock in your love? _

_ I feel we’re close enough _

_ Could I lock in your love? _

 

He sucked in air for the next line, ready to jump to the next octave.

 

_ Now I’ve got you in my space _

_ I won’t let go of you _

_ Got you shackled in my embrace _

_ I’m latching on to you _

 

_ I’m so encaptured, got me wrapped up in your touch _

_ Feel so enamored, hold me tight within your clutch _

_ How do you do it? You got me losing every breath _

_ What did you give me to make my heart beat out my chest? _

 

_ I feel we’re close enough _

_ Could I lock in your love? _

_ I feel we’re close enough _

_ Could I lock in your love? _

 

The song was almost finished. The next few lines were the climax of the song, so he needed to up the ante in the energy to match the pace.

 

_ Now I’ve got you in my space _

_ I won’t let go of you! _

_ Got you shackled in my embrace _

_ I’m latching on to you _

 

_ Now I’ve got you in my space! _

_ I won’t let go of you! _

_ Got you shackled in my embrace! _

_ I’m latching on to you! _

 

_ I’m latching on to you _

 

He ended the last line in a delicate murmur, like an audible caress, as he pressed down the last chords and let it ring throughout the cafe. No words were exchanged until the last dull echo of the piano faded.

“Wow,” MC breathed out, “I don’t know about you, but I feel inspired.”

“I just feel all this stress fall from my shoulders.” He tapped a few high octave keys.

“So it helped?”

Zen glanced down at his only audience. A mixture of relief and happiness brightened her face, and he knew he could never lie to such a pretty girl like her.

“It might have sparked something inside of me. I’ll tell you my results tomorrow.”

“That’s great!”

“Now, I should return the favor and give you—”

“No.” She immediately walked away from him, grabbing a cloth to wipe down the tables.

“I was going to say free dinner, but up to you.”

The brunette looked at him from across the room dubiously. “No, you weren’t.”

True to his nature, the white haired man winked. “Ah, you know me so well, babe.”

She merely rolled her eyes and proceeded to get everything in order before Messenger Cafe opens. With a smirk, Zen brought out a his binder filled with the songs he usually played when he performed. Maybe his next hit could be about how MC denied his flirting.


End file.
